I Did It
by Lord Ironwolf
Summary: The real reason the 13th Black Crusade failed.


I DID IT

Abbadon the Despoiler, favored of the Dark Gods, planner and executioner of the 13th Black Crusade, sat upon his throne in the depths of the Planet Killer and fumed over the failure. No one dared approach him. Even his terminator bodyguard stood a few paces away, fearing to be near his wrath. This should have been the dagger thrust that cut the heart out of the Empire and brought down that rotting corpse that sat on the Golden Throne. Instead he had to endure another stalemate. Some significant gains had been made but it fell far short of the crushing blow it was intended to be.

The failure was not his. He had planned everything down to the smallest detail and then had double and even triple redundancy plans in effect. Every contingency was allocated for and plans to deal with them were in place. Sacrifices had been made and oaths sworn to the Dark Gods for their favor and yet he still did not achieve the glory that was rightfully due him. Those whom failure could be traced to have already had their suffering and souls offered up, but that didn't help his mood for now there was no one left to blame. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he muttered to himself "How could this have happened?"

The last thing he expected was to have his rhetorical question answered by a cheery voice just to the left of his throne saying, "That's easy, I did it."

Abbadon froze on his throne and slowly rotated it to face the source of the voice. If it was one of the Powers he had bargained with come to collect its' own payment, he had several plans for appeasement to choose from. None of them, of course, involving the surrendering of his own life as he promised he would if he failed. Instead of the warp entity he was expecting, there stood an average looking human male dressed in rather non-descript clothes that would not be out of place on any of a thousand different Imperial worlds. Average height, average weight, lightly tanned skin, reddish brown hair that could stand to be combed and clear blue eyes. He also did not appear to be armed at all. In fact, there was nothing remarkable about him in any way except for the fact he was staring Abbadon directly in the eyes and was sporting a lopsided, knowing grin. The stare made Abbadon hesitate a moment. There were no mortals and a great many warp spawned demon that would not dare meet his gaze. Hesitating also gave his terminator bodyguards time to approach, which they were rapidly doing. Every one of them had been painfully aware of Abbadons' mood and knew it would not be pleasant to be found slacking in their duties.

To have appeared as he did, this was obviously a being of power and Abbadon decided to expend the terminators to see just what kind of power it possessed. Slowly, Abbadon asked, "Just who are you?"

"That's not nearly as interesting as why I'm here." Came the offhand reply.

Abandons' temper flared and he rose from the throne and started toward the figure with his power claw crackling with energy and reaching out to grip the grinning fool. "Don't toy with me or," he never finished the sentence for at that moment there came an extra loud snapping and fizz noise from the power claw and then it lost all of it's energy and became so much dead weight at the end of his arm. He stopped and looked down at the useless appendage and then back to the smugly smiling figure. Keeping eye contact, he backed up a few steps and out of the line of fire of his terminators and simply said, "Kill him."

He expected his bodyguard to fail, but in their destruction and death he would learn more about the entity he was dealing with. What he did not expect was the manner in which they failed. Every weapon that tried to fire malfunctioned in one way or another. Firing pins came down on dud rounds, misfires caused unclearable jams, and some shells exploded destroying the weapon. Energy weapons were discovered to have empty power cells, and flamers failed to ignite. They abandoned their useless shooting weapons and drew their close combat blades and experienced another round of malfunctions. Power fists failed to energize, motors burnt out on chain axes, joints on their armor fused and made the weapons held in those arms useless.

"Enough." Abbadon announced and dismissed the terminators with a wave of his hand. "None of that happened without your help did it?"

The man chuckled, "Actually, one of them did, but I'm not going to tell you which one."

"Who are you?" There was defiantly power here. And where there was power he intended to have it, control it or share in it. He could already see the possibilities in being able to interfere with machines this way.

"Ah, what's in a name? Over the ages I have been called a great many different names. A lot of those names are not repeatable in polite company." He smirked, "That's not exactly a problem here, is it?"

Abbadon held his growing anger in check. "If I don't know how to address you, how can I make a proper sacrifice of souls to your glory?"

"Why would I want sacrifices? I have no use for souls."

"Of course not," said Abbadon, trying to find a way into this beings' good graces. "Being the Chaos Machine god, you would want a different kind of sacrifice. What pleases you?"

The man laughed at Abbadon, "I am not a machine god. I admit it might seem that way since I do most of my best work with machines. I am no god at all. I simply AM. I do not accept offerings, I do not bestow gifts, I cannot be placated, I cannot be appealed to and I cannot be summoned. I take what pleases me because in truth, it cannot be freely given."

"If you don't want souls and worship, why are you here?"

"Now that is the right question. I am here to," and he paused for dramatic effect, "piss you off."

Abbadon clamped down firmly on his rage. Not since even before he embraced the ruinous powers had anyone dared to speak to him like that. He had faced many terrible trials to gain dark favor, risking his flesh and soul, but this was the trial that tested his willpower to hold his temper. He knew that to give into his rage would be worse than useless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and mastered his emotions. When he opened his eyes, the man was still there, looking totally inoffensive and grinning that lopsided smile. At length Abbadon spoke, "If I told you that you succeeded, would you just go away?"

The man favored Abbadon with sweet smile, dripping with sympathy and said, "Nooooo."

"Then get on with it."

The man gave Abbadon a look of perfect innocence, "Get on with what?"

Abbadons' control slipped a bit. "WITH WHATEVER IN THE DAMNED WARP YOU CAME HERE TO DO!" he roared. He took a steadying breath and continued in a normal voice, "I obviously can't stop you so just do what you have come here to do."

"Oh," the man replied offhandedly, "I've already done most of that. Right now I'm just hanging around to amuse myself."

Abbadon decided to try to direct the conversation to something he hoped would be a little more informative and less infuriating. "Will you at least tell me who you are so that I may know the name of my tormentor? If you are not a god, what are you?"

"Do you like riddles?" He cheerfully asked.

"No." was the flat reply.

"Well then, I guess it's time for a cryptic monologue." He smiled, and then began. "I am the creaky floorboard when you're depending on silence. I'm the sudden rain storm when you had to have clear weather. I'm the empty gas tank when you're running late. I'm the knock on the door just as you're starting to have sex. I'm the bolt that came loose as you made that sudden turn." He glanced down and smiled at Abbadon's inert power claw. "I am the critical fuse that shorts when you need it the most. I am all these things and more. I am the one thing you didn't plan on. And that brings me to you." He let out a sigh and donned a look of hurt and sorrow, "You don't believe in me and thought I could be circumvented." He smiled broadly again, "That's why I singled you out for more attention than I usually give others and indeed, decided to grace you with a personal visit. I'll have you know I don't do that very often."

Abbadon caught a key word from that and asked, "Others? You aren't doing this just to me?"

"Oh no," came the laughing reply. "I am totally impartial. If it's any consolation to you, I am also the reason that Admiral Quarren has not utterly destroyed you. No person or even any race is beyond my notice. Even the Necrons and the Tyranids are subject to my whims, but they aren't as much fun to mess with."

"You spare them?"

"Not at all, I just have to work harder with them. Let me explain,"

Abbadon thought that that would make a very nice change.

"You asked what pleases me, well; frustration and impotent rage make me smile the most. To that end I am the fouler of plans. The more complex the plan the more I like to screw it up. Can you see now why I made a special case out of you? You planned every thing so tightly that you thought nothing could go wrong. There was nothing for me to do but prove to you just how delusional that is! And my, my, the wonderful frustration that resulted, (sigh) just delightful. Anyway, back to your question. Tyranids are really very simple as a race goes, what with the hive mind and all. Plans? 'Find food, Eat food', I ask you, what kind of complex plan is that? It takes a lot to frustrate the hive mind. Still though, I managed. Too bad about Macragge. And the Necrons, they see things in a rather machine sort of way. It takes a lot to get them upset too, but I managed. No, I won't tell you anything about their plans or what I did. I want it to be a surprise. Everyone else gets frustrated in such delightful ways when things don't go their way. So much fun to be had."

Abbadon felt strangely calm after hearing this. He was in the presence of a being for which the galaxy and every one in it was a play thing and had the attitude of a spoiled child. Nothing mattered except what it wanted and it liked teasing people. Nothing he could do would make any difference. The Dark Gods, demon princes, mortal of all power and position, they all craved something, be it power, influence, wealth or glory. This being just wants to play.

The man sensed the anger and frustration drain away from Abbadon and realized there was no point in hanging around any more. "Well, time for me to go. You know how it is, plans to mess up, people to piss off. It's a job that's never done, but I do so enjoy my work. And, just to show you what a nice guy I am, I'll let you know who I am. Ready?"

"Yes, tell me." He said rather tonelessly, although inside he was screaming 'AND THEN GO AWAY!'

"Of all the names I've been called, I like," he paused again for dramatic effect, "Murphy."

"Murphy?"

"Yes, Murphy. As in 'If anything can go wrong, it will.' In fact, I make sure it does." He said with a wide smile.

"That's just an old saying. There's not really a..,"

"Tut, tut, do I have to prove my existence to you all over again?" At that moment the bio-waste recyclers on all 20 of the terminators failed and vented to the deck.

"Did you have to do that?"

Murphy lowered his head and brought one hand up to his chin and appeared deep in thought. Momentarily he grinned again and said, "Yes, I did."

Abbadon decided not to pursue the issue and tried to change the subject. "I'd swear to worship you and offer sacrifices but you've made it clear you don't want any of that. I don't suppose I could ask you for a favor anyway and have you go spend some time with Admiral Quarren could I?"

"Sure, you can ask. I happen to be going that way anyway. Whether I do anything just depends on how complex his plotting is." He paused and seemed to consider something. "You know, I'm going to take back something I said earlier just for you. You remember how I said I couldn't be summoned? Just for you I can be. It's a simple ritual, just look up at the sky, ceiling or whatever and say "What else can go wrong!" I'll be right there to show you."

And with that he disappeared in a blink without a sound. There was also a dull booming somewhere in the depths of the Planet Killer that was more felt than heard. The lights flickered out and the emergency lights came on. Then the ship started to drift. Abbadon just stared up at the ceiling and muttered a single curse, "Murphy."


End file.
